Yes Man

by Wallace, Danny

  “But anyway, to the new stuff,” said Bob, and James and Laura leaned in slightly. “An American Starburster put this to me this week over MSN Messenger, and I promised I’d share it with the group.”

  He looked at me, and I suddenly realised I was considered one of the group. I was a Starburster! Brilliant!

  “Now, I hadn’t heard this before, but the Cydonia site on Mars provides us with better evidence than ever that the pyramids were indeed built by aliens. Early pictures of Mars—and I have checked this out on the Internet—do show what appears to be a face and some pyramidical monuments located side by side.”

  James got a pad out and urgently made a note of something.

  “Closer inspection of the face shows it to be humanoid in structure …”

  This was the first time I had ever heard the word “humanoid” used by any humanoid, ever, and I enjoyed it greatly. I nodded along, fascinated.

  “And in many ways very similar in form to that of the sphinx.”

  Everyone just sort of looked at one another, and then at me. I looked back at them and stuck my bottom lip out, nodded, and raised my eyebrows as if to give the impression that I had been won over by the weight of their evidence, which was only polite. “Yep,” I seemed to be saying, “it appears that the pyramids were indeed built by aliens.”

  “Fascinating,” said Laura. “That is fascinating. You have to wonder how pyramids got up there on Mars.”

  James looked up at the ceiling, probably for clues.

  “Maybe it was some Egyptians,” I tried, and immediately regretted it.

  But then Bob laughed. And James laughed. And everyone laughed. And then Bob spoiled it by saying, “No. It was definitely aliens.”

  “So, what made you decide to come to one of our meetings?” asked Brian half an hour later.

  “You invited me,” I said. “Well, you invited everyone. I saw your ad.”

  We were standing by the bar, away from Bob, Laura, and James.

  “I was a little annoyed by that advert, I’ll be honest,” Brian confessed.

  “Why?”

  “Well, I phoned it in, and they put a little border of stars around it, for a start, which I did not ask for, and which just makes us look mad. And then they played with what I’d written. I said, ‘Come along if you are interested in aliens, telepathy—anything at all.’ And they changed it to ‘Come along if you are nterested in aliens, telepathy—anythink! And on top of that, they missed the i in ‘interested,’ and they capitalised the w in ‘would.’ The woman on the end of the phone even added her own exclamation marks. Still, I suppose it worked. You came. You just thought, ‘I’ll go to that,’ did you?”

  “I … um … I don’t know,” I started. “I guess it just felt right. I just thought I’d be open to it and say yes.”

  “Well, that’s good. The closed mind is a disease. You need to have an open mind; otherwise life will just pass you by. You’ll be an observer rather than a participant. Does that make sense?”

  It did.

  “I’m trying to say yes more in general,” I said. “As a person, I mean.” You’ll notice I glossed over the part about “in general” meaning “all the time, to everything, ever.”

  “Are you? That’s a good idea. Be open to experience. Why did you decide to do that?”

  “Something someone said to me. A bloke on a bus. I’d ended up chatting to him after our Tube home got cancelled, and there we were on this bus, when he came out with it. ‘Say yes more,’ he said. Out of virtually nowhere. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  Brian pulled an overly intrigued face.

  “Wow,” he said. “And you’re taking him seriously?”

  “Well, yes,” I said.

  “Who was he?”

  “I dunno. He was an Asian guy—a teacher, he said. From around here, actually. Aldgate.”

  Brian stuck his bottom lip out and raised his eyebrows.

  “A teacher,” he said. “Makes sense. So he struck a chord, did he? When he said that?”

  “Could be my traya!” Laura said suddenly, and Brian laughed at her.

  “Your what?” I said.

  “No, no … Maitreya,” said Brian. “The world teacher.”

  “What’s a world teacher?” I said.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” said Brian. “He doesn’t exist.”

  “He could exist,” said Laura, coming to our side of the bar. “We just don’t know he exists. Same goes for most deities or enlightened beings.”

  I was intrigued. This sounded interesting. I mean, not as interesting as aliens building the pyramids, but fairly interesting all the same.

  “Enlightened beings?”

  “Beings who walk among us and help us with our daily lives. You could say Maitreya is in charge of them. He’s supposed to live around here,” Laura explained.

  This was getting a bit weird.

  “You know where an enlightened being lives?”

  “Well, not exactly. But he’s in the East End somewhere. Brian knows more about it than I do.”

  I looked toward Brian, but he had wandered over to Bob and James at the bar, and although I made a mental note to ask more about Maitreya, the God of the East End, the conversation soon moved on.

  Despite the slightly strange undertones, I’d enjoyed hanging out with the Starburst Group. Brian (chosen subject: “Them,” what “They” are up to, and how “They” achieve it) had a mysterious past and was the most intense of the four. Laura (chosen subject: angels, the afterlife, and “hidden helpers”) was a former social worker and had a quick and quiet laugh. James (chosen subject: conspiracies, conspirators, and the conspired-against) liked motorbikes and had chosen tonight’s venue because it was “biker friendly.” And Bob (chosen subject: aliens, Egyptology, and the TV series Stargate: SG = 1) used to teach woodwork but saw a UFO while driving through the Lake District in 1982 and decided woodwork seemed a bit pointless in comparison.

  “We’re having another meeting in six weeks or so, in Willesden Green,” said Laura. “It’s near my house. Will you be coming to that one? We’d love to have you there.”

  “Yes,” I said, reaching into my pocket for my diary. “Yes, I’ll be there. Definitely.”

  I caught Brian’s eye. He smiled at me.

  “We haven’t decided what we’ll be talking about yet,” Laura said.

  “Perhaps we could talk about Maitreya,” joked Brian. “Seeing as you’ve met him.”

  I laughed. But Laura was insistent.

  “We could if you like,” she said. “Or if you’ve any other unusual interests?”

  It was clear what she was getting at. She wanted to know if I liked angels. Or UFOs. Or if I had a poster of Spock on my wall.

  “I’m pretty… open-minded,” I said. “There are lots of things that interest me.”

  “Like …?”

  Well, what was I going to say? I couldn’t exactly say “badminton,” could I? What was, you know, paranormal?

  “Ghostbusters.”

  Clearly I had failed to impress them.

  “Hey—my friend Wag reckons that men can have babies…. They just haven’t worked out how yet. He says it makes perfect sense. What do you think ofthat?”

  “Oh,” said Laura. “I have actually heard that before.”

  Of course she had.

  “A man named Linton—I think that was his name—proposed an interesting theory of fatherhood. He had worked out that the man needs to be around forty and sexually active. The man and the lady lie side by side and use their forefingers only, and I won’t say too much more if that’s all right, and anyway, if they are successful, then around a year later the man will find he is able to have a baby.”

  “Oh!” said James. “On his own?”

  “No,” said Laura. “By another man. But the interesting thing about all this is that men can actually nurse babies, using their breast, but after birth they will have to cork their birth canal.”

  I saw Brian shift slightly
uncomfortably at the thought of corking his birth canal.

  “Some people say that this was the way man got life before woman was created,” said Laura. “Though, obviously, I have my own theories about that.”

  Obviously.

  As I trudged toward the Mile End road, I smiled. That had been a good, solid Yes. I’d had a fine time with the Starburst Group—against all the odds, in a way. Or, at least, against my preconceptions. I liked the fact that those four key members had found one another. I liked the fact that while their beliefs were slightly off-kilter, they’d created their own club in which anything could be discussed, considered, thrown about, and shared. And that they were so welcoming. Each had the confidence that being around a good friend brings, and they were obviously good friends.

  “Whenever I’m down in the dumps,” Laura had said at one point, “I get myself a hat.”

  “I wondered where you’d been getting them …,” James had replied, and the table had erupted with laughter. It had been warm and cosy, and if it hadn’t been mainly to do with aliens and pyramids, it would’ve been like any night down the pub with four friends.

  When I got home, I was pleased to see I had received a reply from Omar, my endangered Sultan friend.

  To : Danny

  From: SULTAN QABOOS

  Subject: RE. RE.: URGENT BUSINESS TRANSACTION

  DEAR danny

  MAY GOD BLESS YOU danny FOR TAKING MY OPPORTUNITY. MAY ALL YOU DO AND MEET BE SUCCESS. I MUST HAVE YOUR COMPLETE FAITH AND TRUST danny. I FEEL I CAN TRUST YOU 100%.

  MY FATHER’S ENEMIES ARE MOVING QUICKLY AND SOON WE WILL HAVE NO TIME. I MUST ESCAPE THE $40 MILLION URGENTLY. WE MUST WASTE NO TIME.

  I REQUEST YOU TO KINDLY TAKE THE MONEY INTO A BANK ACCOUNT IN AN APPROPRIATE BANK, WHERE THE MONEY IS SAFE.

  AFTER THE SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF THIS VENTURE I WILL INVITE YOU TO MY SULTANATE SO AS TO TO KNOW YOU ON A PERSONAL LEVEL.

  LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR IMMEDIATE RESPONSE. ARE YOU STILL WILLING TO HELP. SEND ME YOU BANK ACCOUNT DETAIL AND PHONE NUMBER danny.

  OMAR

  Thank God Omar was all right. He’d had me a little worried there, but I suppose you get busy when you’re trying to sneak out of the country with forty million dollars.

  Tonight had taught me it was important to grab my Yeses, wherever they come from. So I thought about what to write back to Omar. It was lovely of him to make this personal; to invite me to his sultanate after we’d done our business. Clearly he thought of me as a friend now. Just look at the gentle way he was writing my name. He wasn’t writing in that scary, shouty, all-capitals way when he said my name. No. I wasn’t “DANNY.” I was “danny.” It was almost as if the letter was already written, and he’d gone back in and added my name in afterward.

  My reply was swift and, I would hope, helpful.

  Dear Qmar,

  How exciting! I would love to come and visit you in your sultanate so you can know me on a personal level. And hey-maybe you can come and stay in my flat in Bow afterward. I can only offer you a futon, but it’s KING SIZE. Is a king bigger than a sultan? I suppose if he was a fat king, like Henry the Eighth, then yes, but there are probably loads of fat sultans too.

  I am sorry if that is offensive.

  Moving on, yes, I am still willing to help you. I will look into opening a bank account asap.

  Cheers !

  Danny

  I updated my diary, and I went to bed, happy.

  This was all working out beautifully.

  SELECTED EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A YES MAN

  June 22

  What a lovely day!

  Not only is it sunny and bright, but I am pleased to announce I have been contacted by the people at Capital One. I have been “specialty selected” to be invited to apply for “a new type of credit card”! I sent off my application immediately enclosing a friendly note of thanks.

  June 23

  Saw an advert in the Sun?. It said DO YOU LOOK LIKE SOMEONE FAMOUS? DO YOU WANT TO MAKE SOME MONEY? FILL IN OUR ON-LINE APPLICATION, SEND US A PHOTO, AND EARN YOURSELF SOME SERIOUS CASH!

  I decided that the answers to their questions were yes and yes. And then I tried to work out who I looked like. I decided I could probably either pass myself off as Harry Potter’s older brother, or as one of the Proclaimers. They were one of my favourite bands when I was a little boy and I suppose it’s just blind luck I ended up looking like one of them. Or looking like both of them, in fact, seeing as how they’re twins and everything.

  I sent my photo off with the heading: “Meet Britain’s only one-man Proclaimers tribute act!” I don’t see how they can turn me down. Two twins for the price of one!

  June 24

  Joy!

  I accepted an invitation from American Express to appty for a “new type of credit card.” How many new types can there be? Maybe I can start to classify them, like some kind of plastic-obsessed Darwin. “Look, that’s a Wallace credit card,” people of the future will say. “How do you know?” other people will ask. “You can tell by the markings,” the first group will say. “And also by the fact that there’s no money left on it.”

  June 26

  A woman sitting opposite me on the Tube had her newspaper folded in an odd way this morning. Virtually screaming out at me on one side were “Want to get clean?” and “Clean your whole house—experience the magnificent power of steam cleaning!” on the other. Next to a picture of the new Light ‘n’ Easy Steam Cleaner was a picture of a smiling Su Pollard, who was hailing it as “brilliantly simple, simply brilliant!” She must really love it. The manufacturers were proud to be able to offer it to me at the new low price of just £24.95. I have ordered one. I am going to experience the magnificent power of steam cleaning. I will let you know how I get on once it arrives. Hopefully it will be both brilliantly simple and simply brilliant.

  June 28

  Today I accepted an invitation from Morgan Stanley to apply for “a new type of credit card.” I also received my new type of credit card from the Capital One people. It’s shiny.

  I also bought two copies of the Big Issue.

  July 1

  Worked all day, then had a pint with Wag. Turned into many pints. He has a remarkable knack of saying, “D’ya fancy another?” I invited him to both the parties I was invited to tonight. Sadly one was deep in West London, so we could only stay for twenty minutes, because we had to go to one in the far reaches of East London, which was just finishing as we arrived. Wag wasn’t very pleased.

  July 2

  While walking through Hackney a few days ago, I noticed a piece of yellow paper stuck to a lamppost reading WANT TO GET RICH QUICK? I decided that yes, I did, and I read further. All I had to do was send off a cheque for twelve pounds, and I would receive a book, free, in the post. It arrived today. It is called 501 Ways to Make Easy Money When You’re Skint. It is brilliant. Among its suggestions for simple moneymaking schemes are goatherding, glamour photography and inventing a game, “such as Monopoly or the Rubik’s Cube.”

  It also read, “A small piece of land is all you need to start a go-kart centre!”

  It would seem they’ve forgotten that it’s quite important to have go-karts too. And qualified instructors. And insurance. And protective headgear. And a license.

  Nevertheless I have decided that if they’re offering me the opportunity to earn lots of money, I cannot turn it down. I have chosen to try and earn some money by having a letter published in a newspaper.

  July 4

  I have experienced the magnificent power of steam cleaning. It was both brilliantly simple and simply brilliant, though, due to a slippery step, I did at one point very nearly scorch my gentleman’s agreements.

  July 5

  In my efforts to “get rich quick” by writing to newspapers and magazines, I noticed that the Sun? says on its Letters page that it pays twenty pounds for letters, as well as handy hints or tips, it publishes. I sent this one in today.

  A handy hint or tip for qui
ck moneymaking is to send a letter to the Sun. According to its Letters page, they pay £20 for letters, as handy hints or tips, they publish!

  D. Wallace, London

  I await my twenty pounds. But just on the off chance the Sun didn’t like it, I also sent this one in:

  A small piece of land is all you need to start a go-kart centre!

  Easy money.

  July 6

  I have had word from the lookalike people. They have decided “upon careful consideration” that I do not look like either of the Proclaimers. Either of them! I am a little upset at how frankly they put this. Couldn’t they have had a little sensitivity? Maybe written to me one week to say that I don’t look like one of the twins, left it a bit, and then written to me a week later to say that I don’t look like the other one, either? All I’m asking is that they let me down gently.

  If I ever start a lookalike agency for people who think they look like one or more twins, it will definitely be one that cares.

  Chapter 6 In Which Daniel Breaks the Law

  I awoke in the morning to find a most exciting surprise in the post.

  A letter from the Patent & Trademark Institute of America! Finally the Do You Have an Invention? people had written back to me.

  How important I felt! Strangely, though, the Patent & Trademark Institute of America seemed not to be based in Los Angeles or New York or San Francisco. No. It was based in Blackpool, England. On a very normal-sounding street.

  Encouragingly, however, they appeared to be taking me very seriously. They even started their letter to me with “Dear Inventor.” Immediately I knew I was in safe hands. These people knew what they were doing. They had clearly recognised the ability in me to create life-changing and practical inventions and had decided, after careful consideration, to offer me a “free new product analysis.”

  “There is no cost for this initial analysis,” they wrote. “Why not invest a few minutes today to properly document an idea, and our expertise will be available within a week.”

  Good God! I had the ear of the Patent & Trademark Institute of America! And they wanted me to submit my idea! All I needed now was to have one!

  I was excited. I wish I could say I come from a long family line of inventors, but I don’t. Unless you consider the fact that I was born and bred in Scotland—the country responsible for anesthetics, golf, quinine, marmalade, the steam engine, the adhesive postage stamp, the microwave oven, the fridge and, yes, hollow-pipe drainage. And which of us hasn’t got a few stories about what hollow-pipe drainage means to us?